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Jul. 9th, 2011 07:00 pmI’m in between trains: too hyper to nap and too tired to work. I’m in that transit space between London and Nottingham. Things at the Nottingham end are a bit vague (except I’m being met by friends, so maybe the rest is moot) and I ought to be worried. I’m too tired for that, too. What I’m doing to occupy my mind is looking at travellers and guessing their country or region of origin by their dress and how they hold themselves and – most successfully of all – their capacity to smile. Australians, it seems, are always on the verge of smiling or actually smiling, even when grumpy. They are also the most likely to look like bright young things, which just says something about every Aussie traveller other than myself at St Pancras this morning. I smile, but I’m not a bright young thing. I’m a pastel middle-aged thing. And I’m not in a group. I am, in fact, an un-Australian traveller.
I needed one more day in London to do everything. The key stuff is finished, however, and my research is advanced. I saw all the people I intended to see in London save one. And I’m so tired that baggage-wrangling is exceptionally messy. A kind gentleman came to my assistance on the Tube – he gave me a seat and made sure that the other passengers let me out (they weren’t going to) and so I am here, early. I allowed time for everything to go wrong. In Australia this would be cause for a coffee, but I have yet to find drinkable British coffee. The masterclass folks assured me it existed, and gave me instructions, but so far all I have found is liquid soap. Fortunately, Britain does a lot of things exceedingly well and its lack of coffee is a small problem amidst the many goodnesses. Still, I wouldn’t mind a decent coffee. (also, I’m wide as a house here, in case you were wondering – this is the upshot of those first few days, which are settling down now – all in all, I’m doing fine, considering how sick I was last year. Some things are, however, just a bit annoying – baggage wrangling and the size of my waistline, for instance.)
Now my train is a mere 45 minutes away and I must see if the platform has been posted. It take me a long time to move my luggage (even though it’s lighter than it was a week ago, by about 5 kilos) and these things take planning. When I have a seat, I can do that errant Leeds paper. Last night I unexpectedly ended at a class for Jewish conversion* and did no work. I learned some really cool stuff – the difference between the Babylonian and Palestinian Talmud on conversion issues, mainly, and I want to grab my copy of the Theodosian Code (in Australia, just barely out of reach) and compare the texts and see if my suspicion is right concerning the shape of Judaism in the Roman Empire as opposed to outside the Roman Empire. If you also want to know, prod me in a month.
*This does not mean I’m considering converting to Judaism. The class was a bit sad that I brought raspberry liquorice instead of Tim-Tams, though. Very civilised people who know about timtams!!!
I have now had a nice cup of tea and no longer regret coffee. The train is whizzing me into the north and I can’t get over what a riotous season summer is here. My ticket has been clipped (which is more an imprinting than a clipping) and there’s water everywhere. One train trip and I understand water meadows somewhat more than I did. Not only is summer riotous, it’s wet. Not from stuff falling from the sky (strange feeling, having stuff fall from the sky) but just in general. Australia is a terrifying landscape, by comparison. We think we’re the lucky country but I do begin to suspect that some of our fortune is simply hard work. Like my computer right now. Every few keystrokes it opens a new window. It and the train are holding a secret conversation. Time for me to admire the luscious landscape some more.
I needed one more day in London to do everything. The key stuff is finished, however, and my research is advanced. I saw all the people I intended to see in London save one. And I’m so tired that baggage-wrangling is exceptionally messy. A kind gentleman came to my assistance on the Tube – he gave me a seat and made sure that the other passengers let me out (they weren’t going to) and so I am here, early. I allowed time for everything to go wrong. In Australia this would be cause for a coffee, but I have yet to find drinkable British coffee. The masterclass folks assured me it existed, and gave me instructions, but so far all I have found is liquid soap. Fortunately, Britain does a lot of things exceedingly well and its lack of coffee is a small problem amidst the many goodnesses. Still, I wouldn’t mind a decent coffee. (also, I’m wide as a house here, in case you were wondering – this is the upshot of those first few days, which are settling down now – all in all, I’m doing fine, considering how sick I was last year. Some things are, however, just a bit annoying – baggage wrangling and the size of my waistline, for instance.)
Now my train is a mere 45 minutes away and I must see if the platform has been posted. It take me a long time to move my luggage (even though it’s lighter than it was a week ago, by about 5 kilos) and these things take planning. When I have a seat, I can do that errant Leeds paper. Last night I unexpectedly ended at a class for Jewish conversion* and did no work. I learned some really cool stuff – the difference between the Babylonian and Palestinian Talmud on conversion issues, mainly, and I want to grab my copy of the Theodosian Code (in Australia, just barely out of reach) and compare the texts and see if my suspicion is right concerning the shape of Judaism in the Roman Empire as opposed to outside the Roman Empire. If you also want to know, prod me in a month.
*This does not mean I’m considering converting to Judaism. The class was a bit sad that I brought raspberry liquorice instead of Tim-Tams, though. Very civilised people who know about timtams!!!
I have now had a nice cup of tea and no longer regret coffee. The train is whizzing me into the north and I can’t get over what a riotous season summer is here. My ticket has been clipped (which is more an imprinting than a clipping) and there’s water everywhere. One train trip and I understand water meadows somewhat more than I did. Not only is summer riotous, it’s wet. Not from stuff falling from the sky (strange feeling, having stuff fall from the sky) but just in general. Australia is a terrifying landscape, by comparison. We think we’re the lucky country but I do begin to suspect that some of our fortune is simply hard work. Like my computer right now. Every few keystrokes it opens a new window. It and the train are holding a secret conversation. Time for me to admire the luscious landscape some more.